


Ship Repair

by madamn



Series: Far From Here [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1000 Years of Slow Burn, Body Dysphoria, Cyberpunk, Cyborgs, Dammit Jim, Dubious Science, Dystopia, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, I'm A Lawyer Not A Rocket Scientist, Implied Non-Consensual Body Modification, Lesbians in Space, Military, Revolution, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Space Opera, kind of, mild body horror, space lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamn/pseuds/madamn
Summary: Ava is trying to build a home.****The siege on Earth is long since over, but cyborg Captain Ava Molony has somehow found herself in the midst of another war. A castaway, very, very far from home, without a prime directive. What is even her purpose any longer?
Relationships: Ava Molina/ Mirabel Foresighted
Series: Far From Here [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720093
Kudos: 1





	Ship Repair

**Author's Note:**

> A world I've been sitting on for some time. I've decided to put a couple-few oneshots out on the internet, in case somebody stumbles upon them and has ideas or feedback. It's a break from writing briefs.
> 
>  **Terms:  
> **  
>  queen \- a female of the sentient species of Chuliox, where FFH takes place. For further notes, refer to the first work in this series.

“So, this is what your starships look like.”

Ava startled, nearly crossing two stripped wires, one of which sparked ominously. She was high up in the ceiling, perched on exposed ductwork, so that only her lower body would be visible to whomever had entered the _Bema_ ’s interior. Ava was manually rerouting the ship’s power grid—diverting resources from its ruined aerial mobility components. It was slow, but necessary work.

Ava secured one wire, folded the other safely out of the way, then twisted herself around and out of the hole she’d ripped in the interior paneling. She blinked at the sudden brightness. Mirabel blinked back at her from below. 

“Are you trying to repair it?”

Checking the time, Ava decided she was about due for a break. She swung herself down to join her visitor, landing with a hollow thud. 

The Admiral’s daughter craned her neck, running a critical gaze around the ship. “This doesn’t look very much like one of our ships, does it.”

“It won’t fly again, so I’m repurposing it,” Ava explained, self-consciously attempting to clear a bit more space for them on the very cluttered floor. When she was working, she tended to stop noticing these things. Unnecessary variables. “Did you need something, princess?”

“I’m still not a princess," said the young Chul queen, smiling, "And no, not really. I’ve been ordered out of the war room for the day.” Mirabel eyed the gutted walls, the loose cables and piles of scrap. “What are you making?”

“A laboratory. Maybe a living space.” Ava gestured to a stretch of the console, which was covered in papers; notes and sketches. “I’d also like to be able to move it, even if it can’t be a ship again. This location isn’t optimal.”

“You're in a ditch,” Mirabel agreed, picking her way nimbly over to the makeshift drawing table. She had foregone skirts today, in favor of something close to the Resistance movement’s standard training gear—deep red tunic; black belt, boots, and leggings. Ava couldn’t decide which parent Mirabel resembled more strongly, wearing such dark clothing.

“Not a good vantage point, and I predict that it might flood with the spring melt,” Ava elaborated. Moving to stand beside the dark queen, she pointed to the series of plans that had been frustrating her most recently. “I don’t want to always be mobile, but this ship needs to be able to move on its own power. Otherwise, it’s far too heavy to be worth the effort.” There were sketches of great rolling structures, something resembling a sleigh, even several illustrations of craft with various configurations of legs, bordered by calculations and notes. “That’s my trouble, though. It is too heavy. The _Bema_ was only ever meant to be launched into space, not overcome a significant gravitational pull. I’ll have to do a lot of work, no matter what solution I settle on.”

“Have you talked to Worthheart?”

That would be a good idea, but—“No, not yet.”

“You should. His inventions are innovative. It’s why he was the Great Clocksmith,” Mirabel advised, lifting the edge of one page between clawed fingers, “I bet that he could find a solution for you. He’d probably enjoy it.”

“I’m sure,” Ava said, and left it at that. Mirabel was correct. But Ava thought of the old inventor, the gleam in his eyes as he spoke, breaking her down to her artificial components, grafted and embedded into what was left of her own flesh. An orange dot blinked at the corner of Ava's internal HUD. “Perhaps I’ll visit him soon, if he has a spare moment.”

“Oh, that is true,” Mirabel frowned a little, “He is very busy crafting weapons for the next push. He probably doesn’t have a lot of spare time now. Maybe later, then.”

“Right,” Ava agreed, faintly relieved to leave the subject behind, “In the meantime, though, I’m working on the interior. Here, see—” Ava pushed papers aside, revealing plans for her current project. “Without the interspace gear, there’s power and room for a lot of new things.”

“That’s—" Mirabel squinted. “A kitchen, right? And this looks like places to sit. Is that a bed?” At Ava’s nod, she crinkled her nose disapprovingly, “It’s kind of small. You should maybe fix that. And what’s this space going to be? There aren’t a lot of notes.”

Ava pointed at the corresponding place in the ship’s interior—it was one of the few things that remained largely intact. “That’s my primary console. Aside from fixing some of the controls to match the additions I’m making, not a lot needs to change. I can steer from there, once the _Bema_ is mobile again. It’s already how I run the ship, and a place to store data.”

“Like a library?” Mirabel looked doubtfully at the panel, the holographic viewscreens above it.

“Yes. Here,” Ava passed her wrist chip over the access pad, and the screens blinked to life. She selected a folder at random, brought up a copy of the very plan that they’d been looking at. 

“Oh! That’s useful,” Mirabel blinked, “How do you get it there? How many pictures can you keep?” 

Ava smiled. It still felt stiff, but the instinct seemed to return more readily around Mirabel than most others, “I use cameras and other machines to capture data. Then, the device can send it to the _Bema_. Watch,” She opened one of the ship's interior cameras, and zoomed in on the queen’s profile. “Smile, princess.”

Ava captured a frame of Mirabel as she turned, attempting to locate the camera, mouth and brow quirked in slight bemusement. Ava pointed, directing the other’s attention back toward the viewscreen as she navigated through stored image files, selecting the one she had just saved.

“How useful,” Mirabel repeated, dark brows now slightly raised.

“It stores more than images. I can take written notes, record audio files, run calculations, build drawings and models. A combination. And it stores a lot of data,” Ava explained. She found herself pleased at the opportunity to feed her friend's curiosity—tried to look at the familiar tools through a newcomer’s eyes.

“That’s...” Mirabel watched Ava operate the console, illustrating the explanation with examples, “You know, this could really help us. The Resistance, I mean. We could do a lot with it.”

Ava frowned. The idea had occurred to her. “You’re probably right. For a while, though, these functions weren’t operable.” She chose not to mention that it was the Resistance themselves who had prevented her from seeking the _Bema_ out in the first place—who had allowed it to degrade so much in the meantime.

“You have it working now, though,” Mirabel pushed, “I am serious. Your ship could be an asset, if you let us use it.”

“The technology requires one of our soldiers. I’m the only one who can access it.”

“Allow us access then,” Mirabel said, tucking a lock of stubborn dark hair behind one spined ear, “Tools like this could save time. Save lives. How long have you been sitting on this?”

Ava hadn’t noticed that she was still smiling until the expression went suddenly lax. Mildly, she replied, “I’m not one of your recruits or engineers, princess. I have no duty to turn my things over to your cause.”

Mirabel’s eyes narrowed, “Maybe not. But you’re a guest here. Maybe you aren't Resistance, but we let you eat our food, find shelter under our roof. What else have you been sitting on, in this strange ship of yours?”

Again, an orange dot appeared on Ava's HUD. “I’ve really appreciated your kindness, and I do work to repay it.” Ava forewent the manual switch and sent a command through her neural network. Beside them, the viewscreen darkened once more. “Only an Interstellar Defender can access our technology.”

Ava watched Mirabel war with herself, fighting to restrain that lioness temper. “I understand," She said after a moment, "You’ve told me twice, now.” Her gaze swept over Ava's wreck of a spaceship, her paper plans, the dead console. “Thank you for showing me what you’re working on. It’s been fascinating.”

Mirabel smiled at Ava, who found that her face was again too stiff to manage a smile in return. She nodded instead, and watched the Admiral's daughter leave. An orange dot continued to blink at the edge of Ava's vision, as Mirabel vanished through the external access hatch.

**Author's Note:**

> They're mad for each other, I swear. There are just obstacles. Give them time.


End file.
